The Tale of Mumblefingers
by TheBigCat
Summary: When you're a sentient, walking, talking scarecrow, there isn't much to do but adventure. Fortunately, in this world of magic and monsters, adventure is waiting behind every corner, probably to mug you and drag you off with it, whether you like it or not.


Once upon a time, there was a scarecrow.

That's a rubbish way to start a story. I hate that beginning, but we'll go along with it anyway because it's true. Once upon a time, there was a scarecrow, but he wasn't just any other scarecrow...

HE WAS A SUPER SCARECROW.

...and that's an even worse way to start a story. I really should get a better job than telling stupid stories about scarecrows, but I'm doing this for the money.

Wait, what?

Fanfiction authors don't get money?

Well, that stinks.

I'm doing this for the reviews, then. So make sure to leave lots of lovely reviews to make me feel better about myself. Anyway, the scarecrow was indeed a bit of a super scarecrow.

His name was Mumblefingers.

_**PART ONE**_

_Phoomph!_

It was a very odd sound, and not at all suited to Marvin's current surroundings. It was, however, a suitable sound for one that has just fallen into a pit of blue fluffy feathers. He swore, and floundered around for a bit. This was how he _didn't _want to start his day.

Marvin was a thief, plain and simple.

He was also a half-orc, which meant that no one really trusted him. His orc father had killed his human mother, and was just about to kill him when he had murdered his father accidently. It was a long story, involving lots of twists and turns, a time machine, and a snail named Jim. We won't go into that right now. We need to get to the topic of how Marvin had ended up in a pit of colored feathers.

How did he end up there? you may ask.

Well...

He had been on a small assignment for the thief's guild that he belonged to, which basically involved stealing something, running away as fast as he could, and returning the stolen item to its original owners without them noticing that their object had been replaced by a fake. The stealing bit and the running-away bit had gone just fine, really. It was upon his returning that he had fallen into the pit.

He attempted to climb up the sides of the pit, grabbing uselessly at the walls. It was entirely too slippery for him to ascend, so he settled for thrashing around as madly as he possibly could.

"Excuse me," said a mild voice. "You appear to be in my pit."

Marvin looked up. A head was poking over the top edge of the pit. "Yes, I do appear to in your pit. What of it?"

"It's a very nice pit."

"I know. I'm in it. But I'd like to get out."

"Ah," said the owner of the head (and the pit), stepping into full view. "That would be a bit of a problem. You see, I don't have a way to get you out. Pits are mainly for putting people in. Taking someone out of a pit would be a bit of an anachronism, don't you think?"

"Be that as it may," said Marvin. "I would like to get out sometime soon."

The pit-owner shrugged. He was a faint black shadow against the sun, since it was noon. Marvin couldn't make out any of his features. "As soon as you work it out, you can tell me. I have no idea how you'd do it, but you're magic, correct? You should be able to do something."

Marvin reached into his bag. "I'm not a magic user. But I do have one thing..."

The owner of the pit glanced up. "Really? Do tell."

"It's magic rope."

"How... convenient. How does magic rope remove you from my pit?"

Marvin uncoiled the rope from his bag. "Hold the end when it comes out and you'll find out. Rope... up!"

As he said the words, the rope whipped itself upward, and shot straight towards the figure at the top of the pit, knocking him backwards. It hovered eagerly in the air, shaking back and forth in anticipation, almost like a dog.

"That's a very nice rope you have," came a muffled voice from the top. "I'm holding onto it. What now?"

"Wind!" said Marvin firmly, and the rope began to recoil itself, this time at the end that the owner of the pit was holding. Marvin was pulled up to the top and set on his feet. "Down, boy!"

The rope twitched, and set itself back in its bag. Marvin dusted himself off, and looked at the owner. "Much obliged, Mr...?"

But he cut himself off, because the man standing in front of him wasn't what he had expected. In fact, he wasn't much of a man at all. He was wearing faded cotton clothes, and straw was falling out from the places where his wrists and ankles should have been. His face was neatly painted on.

He was a scarecrow.

"Mumblefingers," said the scarecrow cheerfully. "No Mister, please."

"You're... you're a..." stammered Marvin frantically, raising a shaking finger to point at him.

"I'm a scarecrow," nodded Mumblefingers. "Hello."

Marvin shook his head, as if to clear it. "But... _how does that even work! _How are you alive, how do you talk? You don't even have a mouth, for Pelor's sake!"

Mumblefingers shrugged. "I have no idea. I woke up one morning, and I was a scarecrow. I don't remember anything before that. To the best of my knowledge, I have always been one. I've realised that I should just accept it. Questioning it too much would result in a god noticing and possibly disassembling me for the fun of it."

Marvin buried his face in his hands. "I was just on a routine assignment. How did this even happen?"

"You're lucky," said Mumblefingers. "You were on an assignment, you say? Maybe I can help. I certainly don't have anything better to do."

Marvin sighed. "If you want to tag along, that's fine by me."

Mumblefingers appeared to smile, even though his mouth didn't move. "So, where is this... assignment located?"

"In a country town, just off the coast," Marvin began. "There's a mansion. In that mansion, a rich couple own a golden flask. My job was to get that flask and replace it..."

* * *

><p><strong>This is what happens when a girl is left alone on the holidays. I probably will not continue. However, I reply to every non-guest review!<strong>


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